


☘  If I make your hatred mine, will you come back to me again?

by Hisana_Reborn



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!, Naruto
Genre: Gen, Skull is Uchiha Madara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-29 03:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hisana_Reborn/pseuds/Hisana_Reborn
Summary: Izuna Uchiha dies, leaving his brother with eyes tainted with pain and death and a longing strong enough to destroy the world.Madara Uchiha ruins himself in the wake of lies and desperation, clinging to the past with his family, clinging to the future with Hashirama and tearing himself apart.Mammon gets hit with a souped-up Ten-Year Bazooka.Maybe in another world, these events would be unrelated.Instead-Izuna, dying, desperate and terrified blinks and comes face to face a purple haired punk.And Skull looks down and the bleeding form that was once his friend and swears internally as memories begin to surface.Nii-sama //take my eyes-// won’t you see //-the next-// the world with me?





	1. Chapter 1

J

Skull had thought it was going to be a good day.

 

The weather was perfect.

He'd gotten his newest paycheck for the event in Cairo.

And he'd met Mammon for one of their monthly cafe crawls.

Not a single member of the Varia, Arcobaleno or assorted Vongola irritants in sight. 

 

Looking back, that should have probably cued him in that the day was going straight to hell.   


**\---**

 “Izuna-” He gasps wetly, blood welling from between his lips. “My name-” Harsh coughs wrack his frame; “My name- is _Izuna-!”_ He lunges forward, hands fisting the front of Skull’s jumpsuit and Skull can barely see the whites of his eyes around his wide blown pupils. Skull wants to shake off this crazy man, this  _dying_ man from him, but his grip is like iron and Skull  _recognises_ that damnable puff of pink smoke and as unbelievable as it is, this dark haired, desperate boy is  ** _Mammon_** who knows how many years ago and he can’t, in good conscience leave him to die.

  
So instead he grasps his forearms and drags him with him, unable to help the wince he has as the boy snarls, the sword in his gut still sparking faintly. Skull is no healer, but even he knows better than to remove a weapon from a wound with it being the only thing keeping him from bleeding out completely. But he also has no idea how to close said wound because he is neither a doctor nor a Sun and he thinks this boy needs more than a few of both with how big the hole in him is. But for now… Skull propagates the boy’s blood volume, painting a gory trail behind them. The guy can’t bleed out if he has too much blood in the first place right?   
_  
_ They somehow manage to stumble over to his motorcycle and race off to the Vongola mansion, Skull with one hand on the handlebars and the other over his near-run through companion, pumping in as much of his Cloud Flames as he can spare.

 

**\---**

 

It turns out to be a very bad time to approach the Vongola Mansion because apparently another one of their hoity-toity Vongola Tradition only parties is in full swing and allied Famiglias are swarming the grounds. Pushing down the familiar irritation at having  _not_ been invited once again, (and the warmth in his heart because Mammon had  _ **skipped out**_ for him) Skull barges straight through to the ballroom, ignoring the scandalised gasps he gets. Faintly he hears someone exclaim at his rudeness in staining the sanctity of the venue, let alone their clothes and he makes a mental note to punch them in the throat once this is all over.   
  
As he’d correctly assumed, Vongola Decimo is entertaining the more influential of his guests in the main ballroom, his Guardians scattered amongst the crowd. More importantly, the entirety of the Varia is also present and Skull makes a beeline for their colourfully eccentric Sun.   
  
“Lussaria!” He calls out, hauling the miraculously still conscious body in front of him. “He needs help!”  
  
The man turns and seems to stop for a moment out of pure incredulity. Then he tilts his head sardonically, twirling the wineglass in hand, sidestepping the crimson pool rapidly spreading across the marble floor.

“Now why would I do that darling? Why would you even come to me for help?” he drawls, sipping his drink like his own fellow Element is not  _bleeding to death right in front of him-!_  
  
Skull is nearly speechless with rage, shaking with the force of it, but Mammon’s life is slipping away between his fingers and he  _needs_ to keep it together. So caught up in not flaring up, Skull is a mite too slow to stop the flashy Sun’s  boot tip from propping up the injured man’s chin, nudging it this way and that to get a good look at his face.  
“You know~ I’ll tell you what,” he coos “since this guy you’ve so~ painstakingly brought me is so deliciously handsome, I’ll take his corpse off your hands!” Lussuria ‘jazz handed’ for emphasis. “He’d look very fine in my collection~ And I’ll even throw in a free heal, one time deal only in exchange~ What do you say~?” 

Skull wants to  ** _scream._**  His Flames boil just beneath his skin and only the very fragile life precariously balanced in his hands tethers his Rage. Mammon is precious to him, more than anyone else, and he **dares** -?

  
“For fuck’s sake,” He spits out, Flames blazing higher, “I knew the Varia was heartless, but I didn’t think you’d stand by and watch your own teammate die. Money-loving or not, Mammon should have never have joined you if this is the thanks he gets-!”

 

The mood turns grim in an instant and the entirety of the Varia bristles in offense. Luckily it seems the Peacock of a man is smarter than he looks as he immediately blanches, and drops to his knees before the boy, hands flaring gold.

 

**\---**

 

“ _Why isn’t he turning back?”_

_“I don’t know, the only case- is-“_

_“Can’t- like that-fixed the-future”_  
  
“-not know anything?!- the last person to see-“  
  
Izuna regains consciousness and like a good little shinobi begins eavesdropping on the very careless, very  **loud** conversation happening at his bedside.

His head is still very fuzzy and each breath of his, even under the pretense of sleep, is labored and deep. He was so close to dying.  _So close_ and even if his current captors turn out to be hostile, Izuna swears to be mercifully quick if it comes down to a fight, for this boon they have granted him.

Then something purple flares so brightly he can see it through his eyelids and feels the resonation of equally purple light still lingering in his flesh flare in response. It’s worrisome, but Izuna thinks he has bigger things to muddle his head over because in between the dense Rage and worry shot throughout the confusing purple glare, he can feel his  ** _brother’s chakra_**.

His nii-san had come for him? But no, Madara-nii burns red hot and the only thing purple that he’d come into contact with was…

Huh.

 

**\---**

 

Skull blinks and opens his eyes to see the boy- ** _Izuna_** staring at him from across the sheets.  **His**  sheets.  ** _They’re in his bed right now-_**

Suddenly he realises his eyesight is dulling down. It isn’t blindness or unconsciousness creeping up on him, but more like his eyesight had been heightened earlier, and he can’t maintain it anymore. Colours tint grey, the darkness of his room hindering him when earlier, it had seemed nearly as bright as day. The world  _speeds up_ and he panics for a second as he can’t deal-

And Izuna is frowning now, sensing his distress, his own eyes fading from ruby red to the more familiar black and he reaches out with unerring accuracy, stilling Skull’s flailing limbs.   
  
“Nii-” He cuts himself off, biting his lip “Skull? Are you okay?”

Skull wants to accept this olive branch extended to him, to drop the topic, but hearing him speak draws Skull’s attention to his mouth and-

* * *

 

**_[He’s not speaking Italian.]_ **

 

* * *

 

He’s not speaking any language that Skull rightfully knows and the only reason he noticed was when others pointed out they couldn’t make a lick of sense out of what he was saying.

Skull understands him as easily as breathing and he can scarcely believe it. There is no lag in his brain as he translates the foreign language into one he knows, no, this language is apparently something he knows intrinsically enough that not even time and memory loss could erase his fluency and familiarity with it. Izuna- a younger version of  ** _Mammon_**  speaks his mother tongue and it is amazing.

The key to his past is right in front of him, literally staring him in the face and Skull doesn’t want to let this chance go. He grips the boy’s shoulder forcefully,  the intensity of his all-consuming  ** _need_** for information about his past burning his very being as he steels himself to wringing every last bit of information from the boy before the real Mammon comes back and clams up . Hundreds of questions are attempting to claw their way out his throat, and in that moment, he is willing to do  _anything._

But something twinges in his mind, something small but insistent and he looks at Izuna, past the haze, just for a second and-

The light in his eyes has dimmed and it takes a moment for Skull to place the emotion swimming in his now coal black eyes.  Izuna’s face is still graced with the barest of smiles, but there is hardly any emotion behind it and his eyes are glassy and he is tense under his fingers. Skull can see his own wild, hungry reflection in those eyes.

 _‘Oh.’_  He thinks belatedly, a nearly inaudible echo in the recesses of his mind.

And he lets him go.

Izuna doesn't rub at the red imprints on his arms, but it is a near thing as he winces ever so slightly.

Skull is well aware he can be...Obsessive, it being a common trait amongst Clouds, but he'd thought himself an exception from the violent single-mindedness the rest of his Element displayed. 

He wants to apologise, but the words turn to ash in his mouth. 

"I'm fine." He says instead, like a complete asshole. A beat of silence. And then he reaches out, fluffing the pillows behind Izuna's head. "How are you holding up?"

Izuna's smile seems to gain a little light then, understanding the unspoken plea for forgiveness.

"I am fine." he says rather formally, brushing off the issue, "but I would like to get out of this bed, if that is fine with you?"   
  
Izuna is teasing him, the little shit, and Skull can't bring himself to mind. After all, he did in fact sneak the boy out of the Vongola's infirmary to his own home just so he could keep an eye on him himself. Something in him just cringed at the idea of anyone else looking after him in his place. A flash of concern has him pressing the boy down into the sheets with a palm to his head, before ruffling his hair. The boy doesn't protest at all, smiling up at him through his lashes.  
  
...Weird.

  
  
"You nearly  ** _died."_**

And whoa, that was way more emotional than he would have expected, because this boy is not Mammon, not yet, and logically, he should not be so attached to this child, but the very thought of him dying, him bleeding out onto the soil as  _that white haired...bastard...stared on-_ made his gut twist, and that rage that smoked in the back of his mind threaten to swallow his mind once again, because he  **couldn't** lose him,  _not...again...?_

Izuna is staring again, more worriedly now and he knows this even if the boy's face is nearly deadpan, because his micro-expressions are laid bare as his eyesight heightens again.

 _"I won't let you die again."_  
  
~~'Don't leave me again.'~~

It sounds distant and nearly...deranged and Skull is strangely okay with that.

Izuna hugs him, careful of his wound, but Skull can feel the curl of his lips against his collarbone.

"Never again." He promises.

 

 ---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☘ Hisana_Reborn | Naruto
> 
>  
> 
> If you'd like to join as a writer tell us in a review!  
>  We enjoy having new writers in our group!  
>    
>  ⌢ ) ∧∧  
>  ( ; (◠∘◠)  
>  (_( \⌓⌓  
>  WORDSMITHS  
>  "Immortal are the words used to convey ideas."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara!Skull's getting the hang of it!  
> -  
> -  
> -  
> (psst, spoiler alert, no he's not.)

Izuna was a quick healer. A good couple rounds with the now very accommodating Sun and plenty of food and water, Izuna was able to stand on his own and run on his own and apparently, walk up walls on his own.

Skull remembers the near heart attack he had when he’d found the boy missing from his bed, only trip down the stairs to find him sitting cross-legged , with terrible bed head, sleepily munching on some of the leftover onigiri from the night before on the far side of the kitchen wall.

“What are you doing up there?” He asks as evenly as he can, seeing Izuna sway lightly, still under the influence of the sandman.

“What are you doing down there?” Izuna quips back lamely, too dazed to come up with a better come back.

And then he falls off.

Skull's first thought is run to cushion his fall, but his body disobeys him and he ends up in a half lunge, throat choked up with half laughter from such an amateur mistake and tutting disapprovingly at Izuna pushing himself so soon. The resultant awkward squawk makes Izuna grin and laugh back though, so Skull decides to call it a win.

 

**\---**

 

Skull sometimes finds himself attempting to travel via wall walking instead of taking the stairs like a normal person. Unfortunately, this new unexplainable habit does not seem to come with equally unexplainable skills and he finds himself slipping off and slamming into the ground more often than not. Izuna does try to catch him though, but considering the state he's in, it’s not much help and just makes Skull worry more. He decides to at least pay more attention, and  ** _try_** to avoid death by falling off the wall, but considering the very concerning anger burning in his gut at the very thought of  **not**  attempting to improve this absolutely  **nonsensical** skill he sighs tiredly and decide to buy protective gear on the way home. Good thing he's pretty much in his very durable jumpsuit pretty much 24/7.

Izuna gets better at catching him over time but very oddly does  **not** tell him to stop his endeavour to apparently imitate a lizard ala wall sticking. He just smiles at the near successes Skull has and holds himself back from offering pointers? Skull has also noticed that the boy has been calling him ' _Big Brother'_ under his breath when he comes into physical contact with him, which Skull is...really trying to ignore. That's a whooole new can of worms that he is  **not** opening until much later because he's pretty sure the answer was going to upset him one way or another, and taking it out on the completely innocent party that was Mammon's younger self wouldn't be doing anyone any favours. Or if it turns out Mammon is equally innocent, doting on this version of him is just going to be super awkward.

All Skull  can be sure of is that Izuna knows more than he’s shared so far, that Mammon would potentially know more, but he isn’t willing to hurt  either  version of him for answers so Izuna remains evasive yet. He will tempt him with little clues; tiny out of the way anecdotes and inside-jokes that Skull feels like he should get, but doesn't quite register as anything in his mind yet. Skull has a feeling he’s being teased again. It’s getting to be a common feeling with Izuna and he finds he rather enjoys the sensation. Any jokes at his expense are all in good fun and nothing ill-natured results from the agile boy’s pranks.  They feel assessing though. Like Izuna is subtly testing his limits, if he hits something he can’t handle, whether in skill, brains or brawn, Izuna will backtrack, continuing the air of light-heartedness that had suffused all their interactions thus far. Everyone else’s “jokes” on the other hand… Well, there’s a reason he’s holed up in his home with a practical stranger rather than out there with them.

 

**\---**

 

On the rare occasions when Skull decides to leave the comfort of his home, mostly when they begin to run out of groceries (which is distressingly quick because Izuna packs it away like a particularly trained racehorse and Skull had found his appetite increasing exponentially to match him) Skull finds himself in the dubious company of the Varia and various Arcobaleno. Oh sure, they  **tried** to be subtle, but there was only so many times he could pass by generic by-stander A, B, C and D before he began to suspect something was up.

Unfortunately, being home alone at home with Izuna, who he trusts without even a shadow of a doubt to suddenly being exposed to previously hostile people apparently makes him very sensitive to unwanted eyes and hence, twitchy.  ** _Very twitchy._**

As skilled as they are, his pursuers quickly pick up that their gig is up and begin chasing him in earnest and Skull bolts. Groceries tucked high against his chest (he went through so much trouble for the things, the least he could do was bring them home.) Skull dashes through the streets of Italy.

Skull hasn’t lived here long, but as his eyesight sharpens in a way that is quickly becoming familiar  ~~again~~ , he finds that it doesn’t matter much. Born and/or bred Italians they may be, they still are bound to the laws of society (and the Vindice) meaning they can’t just whip out their weapons to subdue him in the middle of civilian surburbia, but Skull’s eyes lets him guide through the crowds like Moses did the red sea. Skull’s one advantage is that he can manoeuvre faster than them with ease.

 

So Skull runs.

 

_He doesn’t notice his strides getting longer, his speed picking up as he shifts lower to so his torso near parallels the ground. He doesn’t notice how he nearly flies as he grips the grocery bags in his teeth and sticks his arms out behind him, streamlining his run. He doesn’t notice as he barely makes a splash as he skids through puddles, almost skimming over the surface. He doesn’t notice until-_

Skull is trapped on a spire in Sicily, height dizzying to one who has been running for several hours straight and has not had time to catch his breath. Skull pants, breaths harsh in his throat as he watches  **them** close in on him. His fist clenches on open air, missing a weapon he can’t remember. Reborn holds a finger out for Leon, the theatrical bastard, and Skull watches as the little lizard cocks itself into a gun. The pistol levels itself between his eyes, the rest of the nosy entourage arrive and Skull knows he’s fucked.

 

Then something slams into Reborn, pulling his fedora over his eyes, buying him a few precious seconds.

Buys  _them_ precious seconds apparently, because  _of course_  Izuna would somehow come to his aid.

 

Izuna is as protective of him as he is of Izuna and the thought soothes the ache in his chest, as he wheezes and gets back up to stand at  ~~h i s  b r o t h e r ‘ s~~   Izuna’s side, sliding into a firm stance. His newly Izuna-induced eyesight really does kick ass, as he sees the minute shifting of the Varia as they hesitate briefly at the sight of their long missed Mist and Fon's , micro-expression as he narrows his eyes, subtle confusion playing on his face as he takes in his stance. Well fuck him too, because Skull doesn’t know how he knows this posture either.

Then the _stupid boy_ turns to glare at their attackers, ruby eyes spinning menacingly. Skull’s eyes do a weird twisty thing that Skull will  _explore **later**_ and the entire group draw back as if struck when they meet their eyes, Squalo and Xanxus yelling as they fend off what looks like an invisible Mist attack, and the rest immediately trying to douse the rapidly spreading black flames that lick at their heels.

Tthe distraction is all Izuna needs to throw down a smoke bomb, clasp his arm and yank Skull off the side off the roof. Skull has a mind to scream because the spire is  _really fucking high!_ , but Izuna grins at him, somewhat painfully, as he clutches what Skull suspects is a reopened wound, and Skull stays silent. This is what finally allows him to notice he is running perfectly in sync with Izuna.   ** _Vertically_**  down the wall. Then they jump and Skull instinctively sucks in a breath as they  _shunshin_ away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☘ Hisana_Reborn | Naruto
> 
>  
> 
> If you'd like to join as a writer tell us in a review!  
>  We enjoy having new writers in our group!  
>    
>  ⌢ ) ∧∧  
>  ( ; (◠∘◠)  
>  (_( \⌓⌓  
>  WORDSMITHS  
>  "Immortal are the words used to convey ideas."</


	3. Chapter 3

Izuna is …different after the incident.

 

His steps are silently hurried, and he no longer lounges about as self-indulgent as any cat. Instead, he is almost always on his feet, darting glances out the window or the door, or any opening really, when he thinks Skull isn’t looking.

 

He tries to seem at ease,  **he does** , but Skull can get the general vibe from the tense line of his shoulders and set of his jaw.  Izuna doesn’t quite hunch in over himself, keeping his shoulders from creeping to his ears. His eyes droop lazily, half-lidded as if he were about to drop off into a nap, but Skull’s own eyesight is nothing to scoff at now, and he can only bite his lip as those permanently ruby red orbs drifted over their home.  Izuna doesn’t look stressed because he is  **forcibly** removing any sign of it from his person. And Skull can’t blame him, knowing what he does about his nosy acquaintances. He had no assurance that they wouldn’t break in here at any moment. He literally  ** _can’t_**  quell Izuna’s fears. The sense of helplessness is pervasive, and Skull  **hates** it.

 

But worse still is the way their silences become stilted when they were once comfortable, when conversations cut-off mid-way and Izuna avoids his eyes. The inside jokes he didn’t get were once a point of amusement now seem like a great chasm that yawns between them with no end in sight. Izuna eats quickly still, when they sit down together for a meal, but he isn’t as free with his chopsticks as he was before, and Skull can’t  **not** notice the way that he leaves over half his food untouched before making some excuse and leaving Skull alone at the dinner table.

 

_Skull notices that the portions on the table get smaller and smaller. Izuna is **rationing  **their food._

 

Shame burns in his gut, a boiling pit that roils his insides. His cutlery scrapes the bottom of his bowl, the shrill sound ringing out in the empty kitchen now meant for two. Skull finds his already shrunken appetite decrease even further.

 

**\---**

 

Every time Izuna slips out of bed in the middle of the night to set up traps Skull hasn’t the slightest idea of re-creating and gets up again, just an hour shy of when Skull supposedly wakes up to dismantle them before he sees; Every time Izuna can suddenly barely stand to look at him, an unidentifiable cocktail of tumultuous emotions flashing in his eyes as he pretend to turn his attention to something else, every time Izuna flinches at his touch, grasping at his half-healed wound, Skull can feel it. This time the all-consuming anger comes easier, insidious tendrils that curl in his head, pressing down, leaking into his brain. 

And he lets it, because he is sick of being forced to stay in his home, sick of Izuna not being close to him,  ** _sick of being_** ** _weak_** ** _-_**

And _oh_.

That’s it.

 **Madara** stares at his hands, eyes wide.

 

**\---**

 

He peels off his gloves in the bathroom, staring at his painted nails and oil stained fingers in disgust.   
  
Dazed eyes stare into the mirror and Madara runs his fingers through the pitiful tuft of florescent hair he has left. A travesty.

The reflection of the tiny mirror above the bathroom sink is suddenly unfamiliar and part of Madara shies away from the sight of too wide  _ ~~(too innocent)~~_ eyes set in  **his** face and the somewhat sallow skin that spoke of poor care. His body is –  ** _sluggish,_**  pale and so very  ** _feeble_** all of a sudden and –Madara shakes off his train of thought, the madness in his reddened eyes receding. He had no desire for hysterics. Instead, he turns to observe his side profile, eyeing his…clothing and immediately proclaims himself ridiculous.

Purple jumpsuit

Purple boots

Purple nails

Purple  _eyes_ (Contacts, thankfully.)

Purple (short!) hair-!

Madara pauses in his outraged litany to tug open the collar of his jumpsuit, peering into its depths. His face scrunches indescribably.

**_Scratch that._ **

Purple hair,  **everywhere.**

 

\---

 

Madara emerges from the depths of the bathroom an indeterminable amount of time later. His skin is flushed pink from the heat and the strength of his scrubbing. Damp  ** _black_**  locks curl over his forehead as he brings a palm up to rub at his sore eyes. He'd overused it, with the Sharingan, going over every inch of his body, committing every change to memory. Thankfully, he-Skull- ** _The other him_  **was either too scared to permanently mark his body or wanted to keep what remained of his past self as constant as possible under all that showbiz makeup. Either way, everything was  _Shinigami-bless_ **removable,** so he at least had that to hold on to. _Speaking of things to hold on to..._ Madara fingered his shorn locks thoughtfully before striding to the room set aside for Izuna and knocked.

 

Izuna shuffles on the other side of the door, before finally opening up. Madara holds back a scoff at his brother's pretense of scared alertness, barely resisting knocking him over the head as he watches him carry out his solo act. Izuna notices nothing from Madara's carefully concealed aura so he has no compunctions in trying to  _force_ a reaction out of him. Izuna lets his gaze turn sharp as he seems to warily glance from his room window to Madara’s face and-

 

_“Kami-sama, why are you naked?!”_

 

Izuna reels back in horror, _immediately_  shutting off his Sharingan as he wards off Madara with his hands. Unfortunately, as he was very empathetically trying to not touch him  _anywhere,_ Izuna, understandably, wasn’t having much success. Madara darts forward, catching his stupid little brother in a headlock. 

 

“Skull- **NO** , this is wrong!!!” Izuna wails dramatically, flailing like a freshly caught fish in his grip. Madara trips him, mashing Izuna’s face into his chest before pushing hard so they fell  _into_ his room from the doorway. Izuna gives up on delicacy and begins punching away at him, wriggling in earnest from the  _weird naked amnesiac, who is actually his brother, who he really **really, really  **regrets not informing of this very fact before he began assaulting him-_ As confused and panicked as he is, Izuna is no match for Madara’s more coordinated chakra enhanced limbs and is soon pinned down. Izuna is still yelling but with nowhere to put his hands, he attempts to headbutt him instead. Needless to say, it doesn't work either.

 

“S-so, you understand that tricking your aniki is wrong now h-huh?” pants Madara, who inwardly growls at the breathless quality his voice takes on at such little exertion. 

 

Izuna goes a little bug-eyed, straining his neck to look him in the eye. Seeing the angry smirk on a  **very** familiar face, Izuna relaxes, going boneless in his hold as all the “stress” from the past few weeks drains out of him.

 

“Oh thank  ** _Kami-sama_  **you’re finally awake.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky ninjas. Always with their tricks. XP  
> We'll be swapping around Madara's and Skull's POV from time to time, so please do stick around!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Varia have issues.

**Lussaria POV**

  
Mammon has been missing for **three months**.

Technically, they saw him in person just a week ago for a Sun treatment session, a kiddy version of him at least (there was an unspoken agreement not to use the word baby because the poor darling was sensitive enough about the whole Arcobaleno issue as it was) , but they hadn't even they time to say more than a few words to him before his suddenly overprotective gargoyle of a Cloud had bundled him up and jumped out the window. Five stories up over highly secured grounds **_._ ** _**Booby -trapped grounds.** _

Lussaria had lurched forward, nearly spilling out the window himself as he’d frantically scanned for bloody pancake ala that purple fashion disaster of an intruder and Mammon, but there was nothing but the gloom of the early morning and an uncharacteristic bout of somewhat thick white mist that quickly dissipated in the wind.

Fast forward a week, after it was unofficially agreed upon that the Varia _wouldn't_ be getting their Mist back post haste no matter how much they ~~bitched~~  very concernedly approached every scientist Vongola had at its disposal, the assasination squad was reduced to moping aggressively  by taking out their repressed  _emotions_ on every mission they were assigned.

On one hand, productivity was at an all-time high, only contested by the period just after Boss' ... _incident_.

On the other hand, their finances were steadily dropping at an alarming rate from the amount of property damage that they had to pay out.

And they'd had a nasty shock figuring out that aside from mission pay, Mammon had apparently been working stocks for the Varia on the side, an extra source of income they  ** _didn’t_** have now because all of them were shit at finance. Boss was a complete and utter money faucet, Levi was equally as bad as he encouraged it by catering to Boss’s each and every whim, Squalo could probably live off pure willpower, dew and hair conditioner alone, he himself couldn't be trusted with it, (really where was he supposed to cut spending? His own shinies? Not a chance in hell) Bel technically had the skills but was in too much of a snit missing Mammon to even try and Fran would honestly most likely print fake money for all of them for a laugh and get everyone arrested. Hence, they were dangerously close to falling in the red. He could see their Mammon's disapproving stare right now. 

Trained assassins. Going  _broke_.

Sure, in the short-term, they could keep this up by the sheer amount of missions each of them took plus, they at least knew how to balance accounts, so there was that. But the sheer money-making and connections Mammon had were pretty much gone meaning their missions took longer, it was harder to get supplies in bulk and hence, they were hemorrhaging cash  _fast_.

Lussaria couldn’t help but press a palm to his eyes, trying to ease the ache pounding through his head.  He was too fabulous to be underneath all this stress. Hell, his feathers and mohawk were drooping!

Not to mention, aside from cold hard cash, the entire Harmony was  _writhing_ from pure rage and worry over their Bonded Mist, without a single one willing to admit it or release their pent up emotions in a healthy manner. Especially not since their now youngest Mist preferred the company of the purportedly Strongest Cloud who no one could  ** _bloody well find!_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I tried. 
> 
> Varia: Haha, shit, if you get taken down, you ain't Varia Quality and deserve to die!
> 
> Mammon: *disappears*
> 
> Varia: Holy Shit, where are you???? *Explosions*


End file.
